Indirectly
by anacutelurker
Summary: "Cheer up, England-san. At least you got a morning hug. Indirectly from France-san."
1. Chapter 1

**There'll more likely be a lot of grammatical mistakes and something alike. Please forgive me for abusing the language(s). T^T**

**I do _not_ own Hetalia. Sadly, not even once.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER ONE<strong>

England steps into the magnificent building where the world meeting is held today. In France, he adds in distaste. The morning has just begun and he already has got a growing headache for he is surrounded by frog speaking citizen. Once again, of France, of course.

He still has ten minutes left before the meeting starts; he notes the huge clock on the wall. There, sitting on an expensive looking chair clearly lack of sleep, is Japan. Finally a normal person to speak with in normal, human language, England lit up.

He's about to call the Asian nation as he's stopped halfway. Rapid footstep is approaching him noisily in the almost empty hall. He turns around in time to see a big _something_ held by someone whose head completely hidden behind it, moving too fast towards him. He has only approximately one second to figure out that the wrapping cloth has an annoyingly familiar pattern of blue, white and red tricolour before his face becomes acquainted with the said package.

"What the f-"

The rest of his sentence is muffled by the surprisingly cushioned material.

"Oh, _c'est toi_ _Angleterre_! Good to see you!"

England takes a few steps back to give his face a proper space while immediately recognising the thick accent and then the wavy, golden hair popped behind the huge mass of cloth.

"France! What the-"

"Look. I know I can always rely on you, _rosbif_." He starts to ramble so quickly without even listening to the other's response, glancing ever so often to the clock. "But, you see, I accidentally left something back at home. My presentation folder! By the way, can you take this upstairs for me? It's our meeting material."

England blinks at the sudden outburst and immediately frowns. "No. It's not my business that y-"

"_Merci_!"

Thus England's hands are instantly being occupied by the huge, mushy material while the actual owner is dashing through the double door out the hall.

"Listen when other's talking, you darn frog!" he shouts to the disappearing blond, gaining disapproving glares from the surrounding people. "Twat," he curses silently, dragging himself to the chair next to Japan. He notices the Asian smiles bemusedly.

"Good morning, England-san." He bows his head politely, which England responds with as much courteous. He's a gentleman after all, isn't he?

"Wonderful morning, I see." The raven states plainly.

England's frown grows deeper as he finds he can't sit properly with the bag taking up as much space. "Not for me, all thanks to that frog."

"Cheer up, England-san. At least you got a morning hug."

England's current effort to hold the suspicious size object is sent to a halt. "Morning hug?"

"_Hai_." The Asian calmly nods. He points at the stripes patterned stuff on England's hold. "An indirect hug from France-san," he smiles scarily innocent.

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><p><strong>My first fanfic entry <em>ever<em>! I hope it's not that awful. But please feel free to comment, criticise, review or anything. All will be greatly appreciated. *bows***


	2. Chapter 2

**The continuation of what seems to be a failed fic. ^^; But thanks for reading.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER TWO<strong>

Damn.

The meeting seems to last longer than usual. It should be lunch time already back at England's place and his stomach isn't willing to compromise even for one hour longer. He grudgingly admits that he's rather lucky the meeting's currently held at France's; they only have one hour time difference.

It's not the hunger that bothers him. He's thirsty as hell! Sure they provide drinks in the room. Coffee and soda. No tea, thank you very much, he sighs under his breath. What worse is he has emptied his bottle of mineral water and now he can practically feel his throat burning.

He turns his surveys around the room quietly, trying to distract himself from the thirst, and he spots a half-full bottle of water just half a metre away to his left. He swallows longingly.

A sharp nudge prods his side. England hisses in pain.

"What?" he turns, glaring viciously.

The host country arches one of his perfectly trimmed eyebrows mockingly. "What are you doing staring at my bottle like that, getting horny?" He mouths the words soundlessly, winking flirtatiously.

Annoyed, the Brit rolls his eyes. "Hardly," he mouths back.

Suddenly, the half-full bottle appears before him with a soft thud as its bottom touches the table's surface. England eyes the French questioningly. His thick eyebrows are knitted together in confusion.

"Here, just take mine." the other signs, relying only to his lips movements so not to make too much noise as a nation proceeds with a boring speech.

England stares at the other blonde, then at the offered water. He gulps, yet making no movement. It _is_ France's but he thinks it is okay since he's too damn thirsty to care anymore.

He eventually gives up and grabs the bottle, shamelessly emptying it within three seconds flat.

He's just put the empty bottle down when a folded piece of paper lands an inch from his right elbow silently. Picking the paper curiously, he recognises the small, neat handwriting on it.

"_Nice kiss, England-san. Indirectly._"

England crushes the paper in his grip, feeling the heat crawling all the way from his neck up to his burning face. He takes a risk glancing to the direction where the paper has come from. Though he already knew from whom it really was, it's still unnerving to see the Japanese's satisfied smile and approving thumb up.

Moreover, he definitely needs more water now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Last chapter! Yay? XD Enjoy.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER THREE<strong>

The meeting's finished at last. England sighs tiredly as he walks through the same hallway as he has gone through this morning. He has purposely chosen the hotel next to their conference building so he won't need to take a cab; the driver most likely won't understand him anyway. Also, his French equals to garbage. Hence he doesn't bother to even try.

He searches around his trousers' pockets and fetches a small lollipop — at least something to cure his tea-loss today. He tears up the plastic cover and pops it into his mouth. Not bad.

Not so far in front of him, a group of Asian nations gathers, chatting in various languages at once. And there is also, as out of place as he can be, a certain Japanese; the only one who doesn't seem to be involved in the whole ordeal, looks rather uncomfortable.

The sight reminds England instantly to their last encounters. It's not like he's never kissed someone, or in this case, France, before. But somehow the idea of an indirect kiss sounds thrilling.

But he's not in the mood of meeting the Japanese. If he's lucky enough, maybe he can mingle with the surrounding crowds and pass through the group without being noticed. That's it, England decides. However, he's too lost in his thought to sense an approaching figure. It is when he feels the lollipop being pulled out of his mouth he put his whole attention back on.

"Hey!" He whips around to find the culprit.

_Oh, shit!_ Exactly the last person he wants to see at the very moment. And to add up to his today's bad-lucks list, he seems to have shouted loud enough to get the initially bored Asian's full interest.

"France, give it back!" the panicked British scowls. He can already feel the heat rising.

"Don't be stingy, _sourcils_. Give me a little taste." He sneers to the angry man, simply swirling his tongue around the treat. "Eww! Tea-flavoured lollipop? Can't you taste more British, _lapin_?" France turns to his companion to see a rather unexpected view; England as red as ripe tomatoes.

"Stupid frog!" he mutters, snatching his property back from the confused blonde's hand. _What's with the double meaning statement!_ "I bloody _am_ British!"

Thoroughly mortified, England tries his best to nonchalantly putting the sweet back into his mouth. Though, to be completely honest, he doesn't even know what it tastes like any longer. Stealing glance curiously, he catches a particular raven covers his nose with both hands tightly, failing to prevent a drop of blood from dripping down his chin. With that England knows what they both exactly have in mind.

_An indirect French-kiss._

Without looking back, England quickly walks past them, red-faced, leaving the puzzled Frenchman behind.

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><p><strong>Review? Anything'll be highly appreciated. Even harsh critics. Now, till next time (if I ever write any story again)! :)<br>**


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